3 People Xander Never Killed & 3 He Sort of Did
by Eunoia
Summary: If I continue with my original plan, there should be six chapters, three about Xander killing someone he never really killed, and three about people he sort of did. Please review!
1. Predator

_Disclaimer: Xander unfortunately doesn't belong to me. This story was written for fun only, not profit.  
_  
Being a sixteen-year-old male, Xander was used to constant, unquenchable desire. He wanted food, he wanted sex, he wanted power. But no teenage guy ever got enough of any of these to satisfy. In Xander's case, he didn't get any of two of those. But the magnitude of those desires was nothing compared to those he currently held. Now he was little more than a mass of desires. Morals, obligations; these were alien concepts. All he was was want. And right now he wanted her.  
  
Of course, he had always wanted her; ever since he laid on eyes on her really. He told himself it was love, seeing as he tended to have a bit of a dramatic side, but what it really was was lust. Once he got to know her, he was surprised to find she was actually interesting, funny, and a good person, but that initial feeling was nothing but lust. And that initial feeling was all that was left now, only multiplied by a hundred. He sniffed the air, smelling her, not that sweet shampoo smell that he used to love so much, but her scent. It was sweaty and dirty and strong, and he wanted it.  
  
He headed off in the direction of the scent, but was stopped by the arrival of his pack. Without words, they told him they were going hunting. Or scavenging really, which was more up their alley. He took only a moment to decide. Food was necessary for survival. Food would come first. Buffy would be there later.  
  
He joined the group and they stalked up the hallway of the school, the pathetic humans trembling and backing up as they passed. He was no longer one of them. For the first time in his life, he was part of a group, and a powerful one at that. He didn't know how he bore his former incarnation.  
  
Suddenly, the principal (an arbitrary title really—no real power in that fleshy frame) stepped in front of them. "Where do you think you're going? I believe you were told to report to my office." His voice started strong, but faltered a bit when they all leaned in to sniff him, and then turned to look at each other, huge smiles plastered across their faces. "Let's go."  
  
They followed him, their apparent obedience relaxing him a bit. When they were all packed into his office, he shut the door and went to his chair. "Now, I realize high school can be a confusing time in one's life, but to kill a defenseless--." He paused as the pack slowly moved in towards him, trapping him behind the desk. "I, um, I must ask you to step back please.  
  
After that, Xander stopped thinking. He just gave in to instinct. And it was the most glorious feeling he had ever experienced. Not only was his hunger satiated, but he had never felt as powerful and strong as he did when he ripped the quivering vermin's arm off out of its socket. The scream that reverberated through the school was full of the kind of terror Xander had never even known possible before that moment. Of course, after hearing that, the only appropriate response was laughter. 


	2. The Other Gift

_A/N: Sorry if I wasn't clear enough in my original summary. The first three chapters of this story are going to be AU worlds in which Xander kills someone, who he didn't actually kill on the show. The last three are going to be about people in whose deaths Xander actually did play a part._  
  
Xander awoke to mind-numbing pain. Fighting alongside Buffy for all those years, with no slayer healing powers had familiarized him to pain, but so far, he had felt nothing of this magnitude. And the strange thing was, he didn't remember where he was or how he got there. The huge hammer hurtling towards his face that stopped only inches away from its destination gave him a much-needed clue. The bearer of said hammer gave him another one.  
  
"Xander?" asked Buffy, looking both confused and hurt at the same time. "How did you—oh God." Pained realization swept over her face. "You're her. I don't understand."  
  
"You don't understand. You might want to try to understand before you finish off that whole beating me bloody thing."  
  
"He must be Glory's human host. I expect there was some sort of spell to keep us from realizing before. It's likely that the physical weakening of Glory and Xander also weakened the spell." Giles' exposition came from a voice filled with more shock and pain than usual, but it still held that air of absolute authority it always had.  
  
"Wait, so Xander could have been Glory for years, maybe even forever?" asked Buffy, on the verge of tears.  
  
"We can't rule it out, no."  
  
Xander felt like he should protest, but for some reason he didn't find any of this too hard to swallow. There were gaps that he couldn't explain, now that he thought of it. But to accept that that demonic woman who had terrorized the town inhabited his body—it was just too much to take.  
  
"Great, now on top of everything else, I have to worry about my father discovering I'm waking up in strange places dressed in women's clothes," Xander said, in what he hoped was his usual joking voice.  
  
"Xander, this is no time to joke," Giles said severely.  
  
"You think I don't know that!?" exclaimed Xander. "It never is, but what the hell else am I supposed to do!?"  
  
Buffy interrupted before Giles could respond. "You can get out of Sunnydale, out of California, actually, and never come back. I wish it didn't have to be this way Xander, but I--."  
  
Buffy was interrupted by Spike's body crashing to the ground on the other side of the tower. "Dawn," she breathed, before running towards the stairs, not even taking a last look at her friend. Not that he would have expected her to.  
  
"I guess I got off easy, huh G-man?" As he said this, he coughed up a glob of blood that dribbled weakly off his chin. "Only a Scooby ganger could ever say that while coughing up blood, huh?"  
  
But Giles wasn't interested in joking. "You're right. You did get off easy. Because Buffy's a hero. Unlike me."  
  
"Don't you mean unlike me?" Suddenly Xander realized something, and tears started to flow down his face, mixing with the blood around his mouth and nose. "It was me, wasn't it? Who killed Anya."  
  
"Most likely, it was Glory, yes."  
  
"Oh Jesus."  
  
"But I didn't mean unlike you. You didn't choose this fate, just as Dawn did not choose to be the Key. Right now, however, you do have a choice. You can choose to have me kill you, or you can do it yourself."  
  
Xander's eyes widened as he realized what Giles was saying. He wasn't going to make it out of this alive. Suddenly a whimper broke out from among the rubble, and catching a flash of red hair, he realized it was Willow. "Will! Are you hurt?"  
  
She crawled toward him slowly, her eyes fearful. "I'm okay. I was watching.when she—when you..."  
  
Xander reached out his hand to touch her arm, but she flinched and drew away. "I'm sorry. It's just, seeing her turn into you, after what she did to Tara. I can't—I don't know..."  
  
Xander turned to Giles. "She's afraid of me, Giles; Willow's afraid of me." Giles didn't know how to comfort the boy, seeing as he had just threatened to kill him, but he couldn't stand the pain on his face. "I'll do it."  
  
"What?" asked Willow sharply, through her tears.  
  
"Is there a knife or something around?" Xander asked, struggling to sit up.  
  
"Xander, you can't!"  
  
"Willow," Giles interjected gently. "He must."  
  
"But no—he mustn't. There's got to be another way!"  
  
"Glory could re-emerge at any moment and draw us all into hell, Xander included!"  
  
Willow looked like she wanted to argue more, but she knew there was nothing she could say.  
  
"Will, get out of here. I don't want you to see this."  
  
"You think I'm going anywhere? If you insist on being such a man, then I'm going to be here holding your hand."  
  
"Will—"  
  
She shushed him with that foolproof resolve face of hers. Giles handed him a knife that he appeared to have pulled out of his boot. "You carry a knife in your boot, G-man?"  
  
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."  
  
"Apparently. You know, I could stab you both right now and get out of here."  
  
"You could. But while certainly a flawed human being, a coward you are not, nor have you ever been."  
  
Xander half-smiled. "Thanks, Rupert." With Willow gripping his left hand, Xander brought his right hand, bearing the dagger down towards his chest, still shaking. He had an odd urge to laugh. "Just like something out of 'Julius Caeser', eh?"  
  
"I wasn't aware you had read it."  
  
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."  
  
"Yes, I suppose there are," said Giles sadly. "And Xander—"  
  
"You gonna let me do this or what?"  
  
"I just wanted you to know that I am a better man for having known you. And I will always be proud to have fought by your side." It was the fatherly tone, usually reserved for Buffy or Willow, that gave Xander the strength to finally bring the knife down into his chest.  
  
_A/N: I got this idea from rumours that the writers were originally planning to have Xander as Glory, rather than Ben._


	3. When I Grow Up

_A/N: I'm really sorry for the delay on this chapter. My motivation to write comes in spurts. Anyway, this takes place after 'Seeing Red' and is what I think should have happened, unlike the first two, which were pure speculation. This is the last of the "never killed"s. We should be onto the "sort of did"s next. This is _not _a Spike-bashing fic. Please don't flame me. I love Spike for the complex character that he is, but I don't think he's the second coming._

Xander strode forcefully through the cemetery; his destination clear. Buffy didn't want him to be here, but he had realized today, for the first time in years, that maybe Buffy didn't always know what was best. No more "what would Buffy do?" bullshit. He had tried trusting his friends to take care of themselves and that had led to a place where Willow couldn't even mention magic without breaking into sweats, Dawn was stealing jewelry, Anya was hanging out with demons again, Giles was gone, and Buffy was fucking Spike. Or he was fucking her. Buffy hadn't said anything, but Xander knew. Spike had tried to rape her, and she was just going to let him get away with it. He wouldn't put it past her these days to think she deserved it.

And where did that leave him? He may have been a screw-up, but he was still the only one fit to deal with Spike right now. As soon as he saw Buffy sitting there on the floor of the bathroom, looking so frail, with that bruise on her leg and that defeated look on her face, he knew what he had to do. Rage had flowed through him, but Buffy told him to leave it alone, so he pretended that was what he was doing. Leaving it alone. He hadn't let go of the rage, though. He needed that, if he was really going to do what he came to do. As much as he hated Spike, killing someone who had fought alongside him for years now, wouldn't come easy.

Xander burst through the door of the crypt, expecting to see something that would further fuel his rage, maybe Spike laughing maniacally or burning a Buffy effigy, but instead what he saw was Spike hurling what seemed to be all his worldly possessions into a beat-up leather bag.

Xander opened his mouth to yell, but instead all that came out was a quiet "Where are you going?"

Spike hardly looked up. "Does it matter? Away."

"I—I can't just let you run away, you know?"

"Thought you'd want me gone."

"I do. But away isn't good enough."

Spike laughed, a bitter, choked laugh. "You think it's good enough for me? I really don't think you can understand how—"

"Oh, don't even try your tortured Anne Rice act with me! You don't have a soul, and that's enough for me. I'm through feeling sorry for you!"

"Wasn't aware you ever did."

"Because I didn't!"

"Right." Spike attempted to cock an eyebrow at Xander in his usual way, but the action lacked its usual "I'm so hot I wanna have sex with myself" gusto. "Anyway, I really don't need you here telling me I'm a monster when I've been telling you that for years."

"You know what; you're right. I've known for years what needed to be done and I didn't do it. And now it's too late. You're gonna pay for what you did to Buffy."

"Buffy doesn't need you, of all people, to take care of her. You don't know her at all—don't know the kind of darkness that exists in the people all around you."

Xander got flustered for a moment, thinking of all the trouble his friends had been getting in lately, but shook it off, trying to maintain his righteous anger. "Oh, so because Buffy's _dark_, it gives you the right to _rape_ her?"

"I didn't—I didn't rape her."

"And why not!? Because you realized it was the wrong thing to do, or hell, even the stupid thing to do? No; it was because she didn't let you. I don't even want to know what you do when Buffy's not around to stop you."

Spike was starting to get that look he got when the only thing holding him back was the chip. Suddenly, he relaxed, smiling with his mouth, but not his eyes. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you do know about darkness. Maybe the reason you're so hysterical about this whole thing is because you've felt those urges, the ones you claim make me an animal. I was at your wedding, or lack thereof. I know how you treated Anya, how your father treats your mother. Anya's guests were the civilized ones at that ceremony, weren't they?"

As Spike spoke, memories flashed through Xander's mind. That euphoric feeling he got, shoving Buffy against the soda machine, the hyena inside of him feeling not nearly as out of place as he would have expected. The time he tried to help his mother up after his father had shoved her, and she flinched and pulled away. He had his father's hands, you see. His eyes too. Windows to the soul, they were. As these memories, along with others, some even less pleasant, flooded over him, Xander gave in to the anger and turned on Spike, hitting him harder than he had ever hit anyone who wasn't about to kill him. He soon had Spike on the floor beneath him, his nose and mouth leaking blood. He would have kept going if he hadn't realized that Spike seemed to be smiling, almost laughing really.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" As he said it, Xander realized that the laughter was turning into tears before his eyes. For some reason this embarrassed him and he quickly got up and turned around, as though the bare wall of the crypt had suddenly become extremely interesting to him. He felt like he should ask Spike if he was alright, but seeing as he had been pummeling him only seconds before, it didn't seem appropriate. "You wanted me to hurt you, didn't you?"

"I'm not going to be psychoanalyzed by someone who regularly wears a yellow hat."

"I'm not—you know what, forget it. You're just trying to provoke me."

"That's might big of you, considering you're nothing more than—." Spike cut short as he realized that the human wasn't going to fall for it anymore. "Bugger this. You want a beer?"

"Yeah, okay." Somehow Xander had lost all will to kill this guy. He just seemed so pathetic. Spike handed him a bottle and they sat on the floor, backs against the coffin in the centre of the room. They sat in silence for awhile until Xander suddenly spoke up. "Maybe this is a stupid question, but why'd you do it? I thought you cared about her."

"Of course I bloody care about her! You think I would've done it if I hadn't?"

"Oh right, of course. Next Valentine's day, forget the jewelry, the flowers, the candy, and just attack the woman you love on the bathroom floor. She's sure to never forget it," Xander retorted angrily.

Spike looked like he wanted to hurt someone, but he held his tone in check as he said slowly, as though he were talking to a preschooler, "I am a vampire."

"Believe me, I'm well aware, but for the past few years it seemed like you'd been helping us more than hurting us. I thought—well, I don't know what I thought, but I'm pretty sure Buffy felt like she could trust you."

"Well, that was her mistake. She should have known she couldn't."

"So you'll never change? It's just not possible?"

Spike cocked his head at him. "I don't think so, no."

"Well, do you want to?"

"I sure as hell don't want to stay in limbo like this. I'm a pretty simple guy, you know. Give me heaven or hell, I don't care. What I'm really after is peace of mind."

"Oh," said Xander, almost sadly.

"What? Did I disappoint you?"

"No. Not really. It's probably the most I could hope for from someone without a soul."

"Anyway, it's funny you asked about what I wanted, since I was kind of on my way to find that out."

"What do you mean?"

"Clem's been telling me about this guy out in a cave somewhere. You do a couple of trials and he grants you a wish. Well, not a wish exactly, more like a desire. The thing is, you don't even have to know what it is you want. He knows, and he grants it. The way I see it, I can't lose."

"But you don't know what the end result will be."

"No, but it's got to be something beneficial to me, right?"

"Yeah. Right," Xander echoed softly, as Spike stood up, grabbing his bag, as he headed toward the door.

"Anyway, see you around. I'll probably be someone different next time we meet."

"Yeah, probably," said Xander, standing up, so he faced Spike. "Listen, Spike, I just—I'm sorry."

"For wha--?" Spike started to ask, his mouth not having time to form the "t" sound before it dissolved into dust.

Xander stood, staring at the empty space where only a moment before, the blond vampire had stood, his stake still clutched in his white-knuckled hand. He had imagined killing Spike many times, but this was never how he pictured it. He had held no anger, and now no sense of victory.

Suddenly a familiar voice rang out from the doorway. "You killed him."

Xander's head shot up. "Dawn! You saw?"

"Yeah. I followed you."

"You heard everything?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Xander felt sick with guilt and shame. He had just killed a man, or something similar at least. A man who had trusted him. A man who the young girl before him had trusted.

"Dawnie, I—"

"Did he really—did he really hurt Buffy?" Xander nodded. "Then it's okay. I understand. He deserved to die."

This was not the reaction Xander expected, but it didn't help quell the sadness he felt, staring at the pile of dust at his feet. What Dawn didn't understand was that he didn't do it because of anything Spike deserved, but because of what the consequences could be if he got the chip out, or worse. After all, who was he to decide who deserved what? Spike hadn't asked to be a vampire.

"What should we do with it—him?" Dawn asked, nodding toward the pile. "It doesn't seem right to just leave him there. But I guess if he doesn't really deserve a burial or anything. There's got to be a reason vampires turn to dust."

"No. You're right. We shouldn't just leave him here. I don't want Buffy to see and figure out what happened."

"You're not going to tell her? But you were protecting her. She'll probably be grateful."

"No. She won't." But that wasn't the point really. Buffy had been through too much to have to deal with this now. Xander knelt down and tried to sweep what remained of the onetime baddie, into some sort of ceramic bowl he supposed Spike had jacked from somewhere. He wasn't all that successful.

"How handy would a dustbuster be right now?" Dawn quipped. Sounded like something he would have said at a time like this, but right now he wasn't saying anything. Dawn's giggle tapered off and she knelt down to help him collect the dust. Soon they had as much as possible in the bowl. They stood, and after a quick survey of the crypt, exited, Xander carrying Spike's bag, and Dawn carrying the bowl. As soon as they got outside, a gust of wind blew towards them, carrying Spike with it, as it passed.

"Fuck!" Dawn yelled, as she hurled the bowl at the stone wall of the crypt. Xander grabbed her with one arm, crushing her in a tight hug, Spike's bag still clutched in his other hand. Dawn's voice quavered as she held back tears and asked "Xander, do you think it's okay to be sad? I know I should hate him, but..."

"Yeah, it's okay." She let the tears out then. Together, they sank to the ground, and she soaked his shirt with tears. When she finally finished, Xander gently told her Buffy would be worrying, and they headed towards home.

They walked almost the entire way in silence, so Xander was surprised when, as they neared her house, Dawn asked him "Xander, you know that gunky stuff in the sink after you do the dishes?"

"Um, yeah."

"We always used to take turns doing the dishes, but every single night, Mom would clean out the gunk. She never complained, or even made a gross face, she just did it. The first night after she died, Giles and Buffy did the dishes, but he did the gunk, no questions asked. I don't even think Buffy thought about it. It's the kind of thing one takes for granted that their mom'll do. But, once Giles was gone, and we were on our own again, I think Buffy realized that someone had to do it. And she started to. But it was different. She'd try not to let me see, but I could tell she hated it. I offered to do it once, but she almost started crying, so I never offered again."

"Dawn," Xander ventured tentatively. He wasn't really sure where this was going.

"Just wait. I do have a point somewhere in all of this, I swear. See, I think that's what being a grown-up is. You do the unpleasant things, just like that. Not because you want to, but because somebody has to, and because you love the people in your life enough not to make them do it. Buffy...Buffy wasn't ready to be a grown-up, but she was forced to be. I think maybe, today was the day that you chose to be."

Xander felt like he might cry, both from how touched he was that Dawn thought he was a grown-up, and by how scared he was by that same fact. But crying in front of Dawn was probably not something a grown-up would do, if the behaviour of the grown-ups Dawn was talking about was any indication, so he swallowed his tears.

"I guess I'd better go tell Buffy that Spike left town. Maybe I could say he did it to protect her from himself, or something."

"No. You go to bed. I'll tell her." The relieved look on Dawn's face told him that this was the right thing to do. For as much as Dawn talked about how she wanted to be treated like an adult, he knew that she wasn't ready for such an adult task as this.

As they headed up the walk towards the front door, Spike's bag temporarily stashed behind a bush, Dawn turned to him and asked "So how does it feel? You know, being a grown-up?"

He smiled at her wearily. "Don't believe the hype."

_A/N: I know, I know. The sink-gunk thing is from a 'Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul' story. The very act of writing fanfiction is probably blatant disregard for copyright laws anyway. And don't try to tell me those books are crap. Plenty of great writers have contributed. Like, um, let's see, there was that one guy, and the—Jennifer Love Hewitt has tons of talent._


End file.
